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even five 'Darkdays old." Galen strode away a few paces and stood long in thought.
At last he turned to Tuck. "If we but had more steeds, then we could ride apace. Yet
here we must make camp, too, for Jet alone cannot run forever. He is not made of
iron as was Durgan's fabled steed. Even so, Jet has borne us nearly four hundred
miles these past twelve 'Dark-days, from Challerain Keep to this dismal place, and he
may need to go four hundred more ere we are done with this chase."
And so they made camp; but ere Lord Galen settled down for his rest, he took up
his sword and strode past the trees and out to where the Ghûl lay. When he came
back, his sword was black with gore. "I have made certain that he is dead beyond
recall," said Galen, and Tuck shuddered but understood.
East they rode, soon emerging from the woods, and the track began swinging
northward. "They are striking for the mountains," said Galen, "but whether the
Rigga, the Grimwall, or the Gronfangs, I cannot say, for north they come together,
north those three dread ranges join. There, too, is the frozen Gruwen Pass, known to
the Elves as Kregyn, and it leads down into the Land of Gron, Modru's Realm of
old."
Onward they paced, and the miles glided by 'neath Jet's steady hooves. The land
began to rise around them, for they were coming into the fringes of the foothills of
the unseen mountain range ahead.
Eleven leagues they rode thirty-three miles before they again stopped to make
camp, this time in a sparse coppice set against the granite side of a craggy loom
running north and south beyond seeing.
Lord Galen was asleep and Tuck sat scribing in his diary when the Warrow
looked up from his journal to see two Elves standing across the fire from him, bright
swords gleaming in the flickering light.
"Wha " cried the Warrow, springing to his feet, and the sound of his call
brought Lord Galen up, sword in hand.
"Kest!" (Stop!) barked one of the strangers, holding his blade at guard, but Galen
had seen that they were Elves and lowered the tip of his sword to the snow. "Take
warning," spoke the Elf, "you are under the arrows of the Lian."
"But wait!" cried Tuck, stepping closer to the firelight. "We are friends!"
"Waerling!" gasped the second Elf, astonished.
Their stances relaxed a bit, yet still they did not lower their swords. "Your names
and your mission."
Lord Galen spoke: "My companion is Sir Tuckerby Underbank, Waerling of the
Boskydells, Land of the Thornwall. He is a Thornwalker and a Rukh slayer and
serves in the Company of High King Aurion, and now rides with me as my trusted
companion. We are on the track of a band of foul Ghola, slayers of innocents ten
'Darkdays past."
"And your name?" One Elf had now lowered his sword.
"I am Galen, son of Aurion," said the Prince, softly.
"Hai!" The Elves now sheathed their blades, and one turned and signalled to the
crags above. "I am Duorn and this is Tillaron, and we were sent to slay you if you
served the Evil One, or to fetch you if you be friends, for you are camped upon our
very doorstep."
"But& how& I did not hear you approach," stammered Tuck, then his voice
turned to self-disgust: "Hmph! This rock would make a better sentry than I."
"Blame not yourself, Wee One," said Tillaron, "for at times we can move as
softly as even the Waerlinga." And his tilted eyes twinkled as Tuck's rueful laugh
sounded quietly among the crags.
"If you are to fetch us, then who sent you, and where are we to go?" Lord Galen
asked.
"Captain Elaria sent us," answered Duorn, "and as to where we will go, why, to
Arden Vale."
"Arden?" blurted Tuck. "That's where Lord Inarion bade us seek help if aught
was needed. Lord Gildor spoke of it, too. But I thought Arden lay to the south,
down near the Crossland Road."
"Aye, it is in the south, Wee One," answered Tillaron, "yet Arden reaches far
north, too, and is but a few steps from here less than a league to shelter and warm
food."
And so they broke camp, scattering the fire, quenching the embers with snow.
Then toward the craggy bluff they went on foot, Galen leading Jet. Straight at the
sheer stone they strode, and Tuck wondered at their course. Through close-set pines
they pressed, and into a hidden cleft in the rock. Jet's hooves rang upon rock as into
an arched granite cavern they were led, hands outstretched before them, for they
could see nought in the dark. "Trail your hand along the wall on your left," Duorn's
voice came, echoing softly, "and fear not for your toes or your crown, for the floor
is smooth and the ceiling high. Five hundred paces we will go in the dark, for a light
might be seen by unfriendly eyes."
It was nearly nine hundred paces by Tuck's count ere they came out of the tunnel, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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